


bait & switch

by Anonymous



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Disney World & Disneyland, Gen, a little bit tasutsumu and a little bit bantsumu depending on your slant, but nothing concrete - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 04:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13116462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Things don't always go according to plan.(In which Tasuku and Tsumugi go to Disneyland, get kidnapped by the fake mafia, and threaten each other with childhood secrets.)-For the A3! Secret Santa on Twitter.





	bait & switch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fujo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fujo).



> Merry Christmas, fujo! Hope this is at least a little to your tastes.

“Look,” says Tasuku, as Minnie Mouse looms threateningly over them, “I told you this was a stupid idea.”

Tsumugi peers into the dark hole of Minnie’s mouth, attempting to see through the mesh to to the person hiding within. “Don’t be silly, Taa-chan. We’re in Disneyland, not some sort of mafia underworld. I’m sure this is just a little misunderstanding.”

“Stop talking,” Minnie squeaks, waving the probably-plastic gun at them. Tsumugi admires their commitment to staying in-character. “We already know everything.”

The voice is a little familiar to Tsumugi; there’s something about how difficult it is to comprehend, the way it curls pleasantly in his eardrums like honey, that makes his mind catch on a wisp of memory. Even ten times squeakier and transposed an octave higher, he can’t shake the feeling that he knows this voice. It’s relaxing to him, the same way Taa-chan’s is. He must have listened to it for hours on end at some point in time.

Minnie pokes him with the barrel of the gun, which does indeed feel more like the props they use for plays than actual metal. Tsumugi isn’t an expert by any means, but he does love acting, and there was the one time he’d gone to a shooting range for a friend’s birthday back in university. He looks back at Minnie, hoping to spot some identifiers hidden in their acting. “Oi,” they growl, in that extremely familiar voice. “What are you staring at?”

Eyes widening, Tsumugi claps his hands together - or tries to, as much as the tie wrapped around his wrists will allow. “Banri-kun, you should have said something!”

“ _ Settsu?! _ ” Tasuku gapes at the mouse. “What on earth are you playing at?”

The gun digs harder into Tsumugi’s chest. “Is this some sort of code? Who’s Banri?”

_ Ah _ . Tsumugi slouches back into Tasuku’s lap, lips curving up in a smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Settings and scripts piece together in his mind, branching off into half-a-dozen possible directions for this Street ACT to go in. It’s a bit shameful that he hadn’t picked up on the situation earlier, but he’ll do his best to make up for it now. Since Tasuku still seems confused, Tsumugi makes sure to dig his elbow into his shin, hoping Tasuku will get the hint.

“These chains can’t hold us for long,” Tasuku declares. He shakes his fists angrily in Minnie’s direction. “Mark my words; you’ll come to regret this!”

Banri seems a little taken aback. Open gestures and wild movements are encouraged in theatre, being easier to see, but Tasuku has always had a tendency to overact, particularly when he’s still getting accustomed to a role. “Taa-chan,” Tsumugi starts, except Tasuku then rips his hands free of the tie, knocks the gun from Banri’s hand, and sweeps Tsumugi up into a princess hold.

“Don’t come after us if you know what’s good for you, fiend!” Kicking over several storage boxes along the way, Tasuku barges through the door and back into the light of Disneyland, where ‘It’s a Small World’ is still playing incessantly in the background.

It takes Tsumugi ten minutes to convince Tasuku to break character again. It’s the deep-fried cheese-sticks that get to him in the end; he’d been doing his best as Tsumugi’s loyal deputy, but even ‘sacred bonds sworn over oaths of blood and the bodies of a thousand foes’ have to fold under the villainous onslaught of gooey cheddar.

“I wonder what Banri-kun is doing at Disneyland,” Tsumugi muses, patting Tasuku’s cheek in an attempt to stop his sulking. “He told me last week that he wasn’t interested in getting a part-time job until graduation.”

Tasuku grunts. “Sounds like Settsu. Want to go on the Peter Pan ride?”

 

-

 

Of all the rides in the park, Tsumugi actually likes Splash Mountain the best. Unfortunately, Tasuku has a strong aversion to any ride that’s actually  _ exciting _ , bless his soul, and as a result they always end up spinning around in teacups or travelling slowly through a nice gallery of old props.

“That’s a nice idea,” Tsumugi says, gesturing towards a wooden cutout of a bush. Said cutout has extracted itself from the forestry around it and has been sliding along their carriage for the past two minutes. “It’s almost as if it’s alive.”

“It’s creepy, is what it is.” The bush falters for a second under Tasuku’s glare before continuing its journey. It really is a pity that Tasuku has little appreciation for the beauty of plants and flowers. One time in middle school a girl in the gardening club had confessed to Tasuku and burst into tears when Tasuku replied, “Thanks, I’ll give them to Tsumugi.” Since then, Tsumugi has become the unofficial keeper of all the unappreciated flowers Tasuku receives. He had once hoped that keeping Tasuku’s bouquets fresh for him might encourage some response, but here they are, proper adults, and Tasuku is still insulting perfectly nice bushes.

He looks at his friend reprovingly. “I’ll tell you what’s actually creepy, Taa-chan. When we were in first year and you got obsessed with ‘punk soccer’, or whatever it was, and - ”

“I have never in my life been obsessed with non-authentic forms of soccer,” says Tasuku hurriedly. “ _ You _ were the one who painted all your flowers in high school because you’d accidentally planted gardenias instead of carnations, or something.”

“Camellias!” Tsumugi explodes, feeling hot and embarrassed. “They were supposed to be camellias, Tasuku, and it threw off the balance of that entire section!”

They stare fiercely at one another for several seconds. The moments after involve slightly less fierce staring, because Tasuku looks ridiculous when he’s attempting the sullen, brooding expression, and Tsumugi has to suppress the urge to laugh. The problem with knowing each other their whole lives is that Tasuku sees Tsumugi forcing back laughter and becomes even more irate. “Tsumu,” he grits out, hands balled into fists, but luckily the ride jerks to a stop, throwing him off-balance, and he ends up palming Tsumugi’s cardigan trying to right himself again.

Tsumugi gives in to the laughter. As he’s giggling, patting Tasuku roughly on the shoulder, the lights go out. The loudspeakers announce some sort of technical difficulty, but Tsumugi is more concerned by the way the bush beside them has suddenly reared up, revealing a skirt that looks suspiciously spotted even in the gloom.

“Really, Banri-kun, you’ll have to explain this properly to me afterwards,” he begins, and promptly loses consciousness.

 

-

 

They wake in the same storage room they had previously been held captive in. Groggily, Tsumugi thinks that when Tasuku had shyly asked him to Disneyland, this probably wasn’t what he’d been imagining. Tsumugi, too, had thought of taking pictures together with Mickey and Minnie, of watching the closing fireworks with snow melting on their tongues. That’s how all their previous trips have been, after all.

“Tell me where the real diamonds are,” Banri demands. “You thought you could fool us with those cheap imitations? The boss wants to roll on A3, not those other bygones.” He throws a few punches, as if to seem intimidating, but all of them miss. Strangely, he doesn’t seem to notice.

Something clicks in Tsumugi’s mind. “Luciano?” he tries, holding out a hand, and Banri rears back, patting down his puffy skirt. He’s no longer wearing the stifling mouse head, but the rest of the costume is apparently harder to shed.

“I don’t know how you know my name,” he growls, “but I’ll get it out of you before long.”

He swipes at them again, perfectly-choreographed sequences that stop just short of actually harming them. It’s almost as amusing at Tasuku’s pouty expressions. Head tilted, Tsumugi considers whether Banri has gotten stuck in-character, the same way Tasuku does - it would be unlike him, given how Banri normally draws an easy line between him and his roles - or whether the magical mysteries that seem to surround MANKAI Company have unleashed themselves again. “It would seem we are at an impasse,” Tsumugi declares, sinking into character once more. Whatever’s going on, he might as well play along. Hopefully Tasuku can keep a better hold on himself this time, now that they’ve been through a trial run already. “I’ll tell you the code if you beat me in a game of rock-paper-scissors.”

Luciano’s eyes narrow, but the script in his mind must compel him to accept. He sticks out a fist, raises it, and in that moment Tsumugi sees that this cannot be Banri, because Banri is flexible and adaptive when he plays, always scanning his opponents’ movements so he can shift his own position. Luciano, on the other hand, is a fixed character in a play not of his own design, and as a result he uses only rock, five games in a row, until Tsumugi has no further promises to extract from him.

Hands now free, Tsumugi squints at his phone screen and pokes out a short message.  _ [I think I have some thing of yous _ . _ ] _

The typos make him wince, but he still hasn’t quite figured out where the backspace is on this device. “Taa-chan, make the words go away.”

Tasuku rolls his eyes. “I’ve told you this a thousand times before,” he grumbles, swiping the phone and jabbing at it irritably. “It’s even labelled.”

“You know how I am with these devices,” Tsumugi says, pacifying, and presses  _ send _ .

“That’s  _ return _ ,” Tasuku groans, snatching the phone again. “Do I have to write you a manual?”

Tsumugi waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t waste your time; I wouldn’t understand.” That’s what he has Tasuku for, after all. Tsumugi isn’t utterly useless; he uses his phone to communicate with his students, after all, who are young and forgiving of the occasional typo. He does actually know where the send button is, too. It’s just that Tasuku is quite cute all riled up like this.

“Are you calling for backup?” Luciano asks warily. Without the oversized mouse head, Tsumugi thinks he looks quite adorable, too; he resembles Banri on his first read-through of a play, projecting confidence but still using the wrong accent at times. Luciano was Banri’s first role, after all; it stands to reason that he’d retain some of his inexperience.

“Don’t worry,” Tsumugi says, smiling gently. “I’m going to put you back where you belong.”

For some reason, Luciano shrieks.

 

-

 

Banri arrives panting and speckled with white. “It’s  _ freezing _ out there,” he mutters, rubbing his hands together. “What’s up?”

“You’re late,” says Juza, who had reached them ten minutes prior. “Fix this.”

While Banri splutters in outrage, Tsumugi pushes Luciano into view. Juza’s arrival had calmed things, but even with his buddy around Luciano still looks confused and afraid, both of which are expressions Tsumugi greatly dislikes seeing on Banri’s face. Now, he has to see the confusion, at least, mirrored on actual-Banri, too.

“What is  _ that _ ,” Banri yells, pointing at Luciano’s lower half. Tsumugi belatedly remembers that Luciano is still wearing part of the Minnie Mouse costume.

“Don’t scare him,” he reprimands. “I think he’s gotten lost.”

Banri, who has presumably never been through any supernatural encounter before and thus lacks the preparation that Tsumugi and Tasuku share, balks. “Don’t scare  _ him? _ ”

“Stop yelling,” Juza orders, slugging Banri in the shoulder. “You’ve caused Tsumugi-san enough trouble already.”

That sends Banri into another fit of anger. Tsumugi catches some talk of daikons and fields, but the rest of it is garbled and unintelligible. Juza appears utterly disinterested in the whole spectacle.

“I was hoping the two of you would see each other and merge into one being or something,” Tsumugi admits, drooping. “But since Luciano-kun is stuck here for now, why don’t we all enjoy ourselves?” He claps his hands together, turning his best pleading look upon the rest of the group.

Tasuku sighs. “I’m not taking responsibility for this,” he warns. Tsumugi hip-checks him in response.

“Come on, Taa-chan. Maybe we can do a Street ACT together? It’ll be fresh!”

As expected, the mention of Street ACTs has Tasuku swallowing his misgivings. If anything, he eyes Luciano speculatively now, as if suddenly realising he has another Banri-level potential soccer club member on his hands. Tsumugi thinks that if brief their interrogation was any indication, Luciano might have problems with handling the ball, but if daydreaming makes Tasuku happy, Tsumugi won’t ruin it for him.

Juza is already flipping through the brochure he’s managed to procure somehow, eyeing all the dessert shops in the vicinity. The only one still hesitant is Banri, and Tsumugi does sympathise. He drops back to walk beside him as they file out of the storage room, lowering his voice so only Banri can hear. “I’m sure he’ll go back to his own world eventually,” Tsumugi assures him. “This won’t be permanent.”

“I’m not - That’s not it.” Banri runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Is there really nothing else he can change into before we leave?”

 

-

 

As a compromise, Luciano agrees to don the full Minnie Mouse outfit again. It means they’re constantly interrupted by visitors hoping to take a photo, but Luciano’s acting is impeccable, and while Banri looks discomfited by how well Luciano imitates Minnie’s trademark squeak, he firmly dismisses Tsumugi’s suggested alternatives.

“I’m not wearing Hyodo’s clothes,” he says in disgust. “And anything is preferable to letting him walk around with my face, in that costume.”

Juza snorts. “Your life’s in super ultra easy mode, isn’t it? I thought you could suit anything.”

“Of course I can,” Banri shoots back, drawing himself up. “Wait, I don’t mean it like that!”

Tsumugi lays a hand on his arm to soothe him. He opens his mouth to speak.

Suddenly, they’re surrounded. A crowd dressed in black tears Tasuku and the rest away from them. Banri swears. “I don’t like where this is going.” He looks Tsumugi over. “Sorry, Tsumugi-san, but I don’t want you tripping and hurting yourself.”

For the second time that day, Tsumugi finds himself wrapped in someone’s arms. Banri is smaller than Tasuku, less broad, but his arms hold the same reassuring strength, and while Tsumugi would protest that he won bronze in several athletic events back in high school, he doubts Banri would listen to him. He can feel Banri’s shoulder heaving next to his ear, hear the harsh puffs of breath as Banri carries them away from their assailers and hopefully to safety.

They stop at an abandoned cafe, hiding behind the counter. Banri’s cheeks are flushed, his mouth quirked in a triumphant smirk. This is what Luciano had been missing, Tsumugi thinks - the natural confidence Banri carries that makes him beholden to no-one. Luciano was a follower, a man who needed a leader, but Banri  _ is _ a leader, and a good one. Affection swells in Tsumugi’s chest. Abruptly, he leans in, resting his shoulder on Banri’s chest.

“Tsumugi-san?!”

“Just a little tired,” Tsumugi lies, listening to the erratic beat of Banri’s heart. “How long do you think we’ll have to wait here for?”

“Not long, hopefully.” Banri sounds worried. “I hate to admit it, but Hyodo and Tasuku-san should be able to handle things that side. I just don’t want to risk anything in case they have guns.”

Tsumugi sits up. “Oh, don’t worry about that. If they do, they’re probably plastic. Luciano’s was, and he couldn’t hit us for real, either. It’s probably something to do with being characters from a play.”

Banri stares at him.

“What?”

 

-

 

“Well,” says Tsumugi, as they’re watching the closing fireworks, snow falling gently around them, “that was certainly exciting.”

After Tsumugi’s revelation, Banri fights stupendously. It turns out the characters disappear when hit, so all they have to do is wait for one to approach and tap them on the jaw. Tsumugi throws a few punches himself, delighted by the opportunity to try some more action-based sequences. They dispose of Luciano the same way - after taking a group photo with him in his Minnie Mouse outfit, of course. It’s difficult enough to get pictures with even the least popular Disney character, let alone Minnie herself. Juza and Banri argue over who gets to deal the farewell blow - Banri wants revenge for all the running around, and Juza just wants a chance to hit Banri.

Eventually, Tasuku snaps. “This is stupid,” he says, and bops Luciano on the head. This is one of the reasons Tsumugi appreciates him so much. Tsumugi himself tends to get wrapped up in decisions; he knows he has a tendency to overthink things. Tasuku, on the other hand, moves with purpose. Without that trait, they may never have been able to mend their friendship.

“Thanks, Taa-chan,” Tsumugi says, genuine enough to surprise even himself.

Tasuku shakes his head. “Don’t mind it,” he says, and then, as if remembering for the first time, “And don’t call me Taa-chan.”

“Taa-chan,” repeats Tsumugi, just to see Tasuku’s face do that irritated twist again.

“You’ll regret that.” Tasuku grabs his shoulders. He keeps a firm hold as Tsumugi squirms under his hands, laughing, and leans in, breath tickling Tsumugi’s ear. “Tsumu.”

Tsumugi yelps. His cheeks burn bright red.

Looking satisfied, Tasuku turns back to where Banri and Juza are pointedly not looking at them. “Oi,” he calls, “the closing show is starting soon, if you want to come.”

“Ooh!” Tsumugi bounces on his toes. “Remember sixth year, Tasuku? When we went to the closing show and  _ that _ happened...”

“Not at all,” replies Tasuku. “Just like you don’t remember the incident at Dad’s when we were seven.”

“What happened when you were seven?” Banri asks curiously. He sounds suspiciously eager, and Tsumugi recalls a number of incidences on their cafe outins where Banri has laughed and said things like,  _ Tsumugi-san, you’ll never believe what that Hyodo did the other day _ , or  _ Have you seen Kazunari’s Inste? He’s got this great photo of Citron up there, from last night’s mahjong tournament. _

“It’s a secret,” Tsumugi says decisively, “and if Tasuku tells you I will have to silence you both.” He smiles to soften the threat, though Banri’s eyes still widen.

“Has anyone told you that you can be downright terrifying at times?”

“Not to my face,” Tsumugi assures him. “And certainly none who’d admit to it after.”

 

-

 

They part with Banri and Juza at the gates because Banri has made plans for karaoke and Juza is having dessert with Muku. The two of them bicker until they can no longer be seen, swallowed up in the shadows of the evening.

“This didn’t exactly go according to plan,” Tasuku says, turning to Tsumugi, who laughs.

“I would be surprised if it had.”

Tasuku laughs at that too, though he sombres up quickly. “For a while, I didn’t think we’d have the opportunity to go together like this again.”

Tsumugi knows what Tasuku is referring to. He’d felt the same, alone in his own home with the relics of their past outings stowed away in one of his cupboards.

A lot has changed since they met the Director.

“It was different,” he says. “Not in a bad way, though.”

The snow crunches beneath their feet, sparkling under the moonlight that reflects off Tasuku’s keys. Tsumugi shivers at the chill. In the past, Tasuku would have offered his jacket.

“You’re going to catch a cold,” he says in exasperation, now. He throws open the van door and bundles Tsumugi into the seat, slamming the door after him. Once in the driver’s seat, he turns the heater up, full blast, taking Tsumugi’s hands for a brief second to check their temperature.

“I’m not a child,” Tsumugi snaps, thrown by the action. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” says Tasuku, somehow irritable again. “The problem is that you  _ don’t _ . You should have brought a better coat.”

Tsumugi’s defenses rise. “Well, we’re in the van now. And it wasn’t cold before.”

He doesn’t say,  _ I thought you’d give me yours. _ Tasuku scowls, as if he can hear the thought anyway. “You’d better be prepared next time, then,” he says, turning the key. The van rumbles to life, wipers pushing snow and frost from the windscreen. Tasuku’s attention is focused on the dim road, but Tsumugi’s attention is focused on Tasuku.

“Maybe we can bring Banri-kun and Juza-kun along next time as well,” he suggests, buoyed by the thought that Tasuku has already assumed a  _ next time _ . He warms to the idea as he speaks it. “It’d be nice to go with the rest of the Winter Troupe too, wouldn’t it?”

Tasuku shudders. “Yukishiro might enjoy it if we come in the evening, but it’d be a pain watching over Arisugawa and Mikage.” He hesitates, eyes flicking briefly away from the road to rest on Tsumugi. “Once in a while, maybe. Not every time.”

“Little steps,” Tsumugi agrees, turning the dial to change the song on the speakers. “It’s not so bad, is it? Things being just a little bit different.”

Tasuku rolls them to a stop at the traffic lights. “No,” he says. He looks directly at Tsumugi as he speaks. “It’s not.”


End file.
